


Somniloquy

by MaevesChild



Series: Fusion Core [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild





	Somniloquy

For a long time Sanctuary felt like a half remembered dream, like something that hadn’t really happened.  But here he was, curled up with his head pressed against her shoulder.  Her hair was tickling his face, bare legs and arm tangled together under the threadbare sheet.

Home.  He’d never had a place he could call that and mean it.  He lived in Rivet City, the Citadel, on the Prydwen, but those weren’t homes.  They were assignments, one stop on a path he’d set for himself.  Ultimately, he expected to die in the field.  He didn’t get attached, even when he said he was.

Danse was warm and comfortable it felt amazing after being cold for so long.

She was asleep.  She didn’t move much when she slept, at least not here.  When they were out on the road, she slept lighter, was more wary.  Here in Sanctuary she felt safe, safe enough to surrender to deep sleep.  He fancied the idea that he was part of that.

He didn’t sleep much, not unless he had an audience.  It did seem to help to sleep periodically, sort of like a reset but he didn’t need it.  Apparently he never had.  It was funny, but it didn’t bother him as much as it did at first.

He was flesh and blood still, even if he wasn’t human.  He did get some benefit from sleep, from food, from water, from sex, even if he didn’t need them.  He smiled unconsciously.  Sometimes it felt like he needed sex, even if it didn’t serve the same purpose as it did for humans.  He wouldn’t be fathering any children.

Sometimes, he let himself pretend that Shaun was his child anyway.  He was, at least in the sense that he looked up to him, depended on him.  He’d never even imagined that outcome, but there it was.  

That felt good too, having a family, a real one.

She made a little noise in her sleep.  He looked up at her.  Her eyes were moving behind her closed lids.  Dreaming.  She did that sometimes; talked, murmured in her sleep.  She had nightmares too, sometimes she called out for Nate, though not so often any more.  It used to make him feel jealous, but he didn’t think it would now.

He was grateful to Nate for helping make her the person that she was.

She made another sound and this one had a decidedly different tone.  She did it again, a low, breathy moan.  Undeniably sexual.  It sent a shock through his body, straight to his groin.  He swallowed.  Watched her face.  Her eyes still darted back and forth under her eyelids.

Her body sort of undulated, the side of her hip brushing against him.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice low and husky.  “Oh Danse.”

He was immediately hard.

She bent her knees, tenting the sheet up between her spread legs.  Her thigh rubbed against his when she moved.

“Oh god, Danse,” she said.  “Touch me. Just like that.”

He hands itched to do what she asked, but she was completely out.  He knew logically she wouldn’t be bothered if he woke her by touching her, but it bothered him still.  She couldn’t say yes or no, if she was asleep.  He didn’t like that.

He watched instead, watched her eyelashes tremble ever so slightly from the movement of her eyes, watched her lips part.  He listened.  Very carefully.

She spread her legs open wider, her hips bucked up off the bed.

“Yes,” she hissed between her teeth.  “More.  Oh god, I didn’t know you could do that with your tongue.”

His cock throbbed.  

Danse loved to do that.  He loved to bury his face between her legs.  She would dig her fingers into his hair, tug at it, make his scalp prickle.  He loved to give her pleasure, make her call out his name.  He loved it for himself too, the way she tasted, the exquisite agony of his own arousal.

He was grateful they fell asleep still nude.  He was certain even his briefs would have been incredibly uncomfortable.  He reached down to shift his cock to a more comfortable position, but knew he was fooling himself.  He wrapped his fingers around his erection and squeezed.  His cock pulsed under his palm.

“Oh, oh.”  She was moaning, her head, moving back and forth on the pillow.  “Put your fingers inside me, oh god, yes.”

He closed his eyes.  He stroked his hand along his length.  She moved her thigh and the soft skin brushed up against the head of his cock.  He left a slick of fluid against her skin, but he couldn’t will himself to move away.

Her breathing got faster, shallow, more ragged.  Her hips moved and her thigh stroked him again.  

“I’m going to cum,” she whispered.  “Don’t stop.”

Danse moved his hand roughly, almost in the rhythm of her breathing.  

She moaned, caught her breath.  He felt her thigh shiver and tremble against him, all her muscles tensed.  His balls pulled up tight against the base of his cock.  He squeezed hard, didn’t move.

She relaxed, her head lolling towards him.  She panted, trying to catch her breath.  Her eyes still darted behind her eyelids.

He wondered if it was over, if she'd just drift into a deeper sleep now that she was satiated.  His cock ached.

But then she spoke again.  “That was incredible,” she said, breathy, affectionate.  “But I want you inside of me.”

Blood pulsed in his cock.

She smiled, languid.  She turned her head back up toward the ceiling, as if she was looking up at him, poised over her.  That was always a heady moment; braced on his arms, his thighs tucked up under hers, his body ready, willing, desperate for her.

She tilted her hips again.  Her thigh rubbed against his cock.  He pumped his hand roughly along his erection and bit his lip to stay silent.

Her mouth fell open and she sighed, raising her hips up off the bed like she was opening to take him in.  

“Fuck, you’re so hard.”

_She wasn't wrong about that._

“Fuck me,” she moaned.  “Fuck me hard.”

She pushed her hips up in a rhythm, rising up to meet her dream version of him.  He couldn’t help it.  He thrust his cock into his hand, matching her movements.

He made love to her before they slept, but it was a sweet, gentle thing.  Not like this.  Not like this hard, passionate dream she was having.  Was that what she wanted?

Goddamn, he was so willing to do that for her.  Anything she wanted; she only had to ask.

“Are you going to cum for me?” she asked.  

It took all his self control not to reply.  He sure as hell was going to, and soon.  He rubbed his hand over the head of his cock, slicking his hand with the seeping fluid.  He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, breathing in hard through his nose, taking in the sweet, musty smell of her hair.

“I want you to cum for me, love.”  Her voice was assertive, dominant.  This was an order.  “I want you to cum all over me.”

Danse was good at following orders. _Fuck._

He felt a pang of guilt but it was quickly washed away by his need.  He pumped himself faster, fingers tight.  He felt the muscles along his spine tense first, then his feet flexed, his calves cramping.  

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to hold his breath but there was no stopping it.  The sensation built, pinpointed at the base of his cock and then he was doing just as she commanded him.  He was cumming hard, cum spurting out of him, splattering up against his belly, on to his chest.  He tried to contain himself, but the orgasm was so overwhelming, so fierce, he couldn’t manage.  Some of his seed slicked itself against her hip, up onto the arch of her rib cage.

She made a sound, a different tone.  Her eyes fluttered open.

Danse was too satiated to be as mortified as he knew he should be.

She blinked a few times as she surfaced up out of her sleep.  “Mmm,” she muttered.  “I just had the most amazing dream.”  Her hand flopped over on to his chest.  A little line appeared between her eyebrows when she felt the warm, sticky fluid matted into his chest hair.  

He felt his cheeks get hot.

“Well then,” she said, humor in her voice.  “Maybe not completely a dream then.”  She rolled over on to her side to face him.  She frowned a little at the pained look on his face.  She shook her head.  “You look embarrassed.  Don’t be.  Next time, just wake me up if you’d like some, uh,  _help_ with that.”  She grinned.

Danse couldn’t help but laugh.  “Did you know,” he asked, closing his eyes when she moved in and kissed his cheek.  “That you talk in your sleep?”


End file.
